Diaphanous' Idea Pit
by Diaphanous
Summary: Here are some ideas that I might or might not continue. Up for grabs, just tell me if you want to write it or borrow elements. Crossovers with other final fantasies, time-traveling with our favorite blond delivery boy, AC/HP Xovers, etc! Have fun, k?
1. ReGeneration

**ReGeneration**

Disclaimer: I no own, you no sue, k?

Chapter One: Initium

_Part One: The Eternal Return_

The clunking sound of heavy boots on hardwood flooring echoed in the eerie atmosphere and icy breaths of the lone visitor subtly disturbed the air. The skittering of rats, roaches, and small monsters tickled the visitor's sensitive hearing. Shadows were tinted electric blue by Mako bright eyes. Those eyes were the only source of light in the dark mansion. The footsteps stopped in the room that held the secret stairs, which led down to the basement.

"I'm here again," the visitor said to no one. His voice sounded harsh in the haunting silence of the old Shin-ra Mansion. "Why the fuck am I here again?" Whispers from the Planet, for Cloud Strife certainly knew the difference between Gaia and the now mostly gone Jenova, urged him on. "I don't want to go into the damned basement," he grumbled. "I think five years of hell down there was enough." The whispers turned scolding. "You're not the boss of me." Cloud didn't care how juvenile he sounded. He didn't want to go down there. He tugged at his golden, spiky hair in agitation.

"Really Cloud, it's been thirty years..." Aeris Gainsborough's voice said, hushing the Planet. "Long enough to not care, right?"

"Funny, thirty years didn't help Vincent any," Cloud snipped. "I hate this place. You're lucky that I even came to this damned village."

"This village was your home." Aeris sounded sad, as if she couldn't believe Cloud could hate his home village.

"You'd better believe I hate this place. I've hated it since I could understand what the villagers said about my mother and me. I was upset that Sephiroth destroyed the village, no denying that...." Cloud paused and softly continued after another moment. "And yet a hidden part of me loved it.... was cheering at the twisted, ironic justice of having those xenophobic bastards burning because of my hero." He let out a bitter laugh. "This hasn't been my birth village in over thirty-five fucking years. The real Nibelheim was destroyed a long, long time ago. And I'm glad. Glad, glad, GLAD!" He shouted the last word. He felt Aeris' presence vanish in shock from his head.

Cloud stared hard at the hidden door.

000

Fuck.... now Cloud felt guilty about shouting at Aeris. Her and her saintliness whatever. Shit, she was too perfect, made him want to scream from the familiar feeling of inferiority. He knew that she didn't do it maliciously, didn't have a malicious thought in her mind.

"You know Spike, you've turned into a grumpy old man," Zack Fair's voice softly whispered in Cloud's mind. "Aeris' completely shocked at how grumpy you are nowadays." There was a hint of disapproval in the dead man's voice. "Didn't have to shout at her, you know."

"Shut up Zack," Cloud muttered aloud. "I'm here in the fucking basement, ain't I?"

"Yeah, yeah. Well, you ain't going to chase me away with your grumpiness. Gods know you were always grumpy back when you were a cadet."

"Whatever," the blond swordsman snapped. "Maybe if you didn't mess with me all of the time I wouldn't have been grumpy."

Zack's laughter echoed in the empty spaces in Cloud's head. "I loved messing with you, Choco-boy. Man, you are so easily ruffled."

"Don't fucking call me that." There was no heat in the blond's voice this time. He sounded vaguely frustrated with a hint of affection from the old nickname. "Always calling me that, you damned nuisance. That or Spike…"

"Now, now, Spike. You're cursing like that Cid guy. Must come with being old."

"Asshole, you'll always be older than me."

"Yeah but I'm dead so I'm stuck at the super sexy age of twenty-three with the hot body of an eighteen-year-old."

"Idiot, I'm the one with the body of a twenty-one-year-old after thirty years."

"Oh yeah..."

Cloud reluctantly smiled. "Dummy," he said with a rough laugh.

"So, do you know why old Gaia sent you here?"

"Hell if I know."

"You're being awful slow about it. Don't want to be in the basement library, huh? Don't blame you, Spike."

"Pipe down, you," Cloud muttered. He finally made his way to the door that led to the labs and library. He paused in front of it in indecision, his hand hovering over the doorknob. "I don't want to do this, Zack."

"I know."

"Really Zack, why am I here?"

"I can't answer that yet, buddy. Sorry."

Cloud shook his head. "Why am I not surprised?" he wondered aloud. His hand rested on the doorknob. "I don't know which is worst; being a puppet of Jenova or being a puppet of Gaia." The blond sighed. "Fine, whatever." He twisted the knob harshly and shoved the door open. The rotting wood shuddered and partially crumbled from the abuse.

"Wow, you are in a piss-poor mood, Spike." There was a pause. "Ain't you gonna go in?"

"Your grammar is atrocious, Zachary Fair. And I'm working on it, alright? Don't be rushing me for your own gratification."

"Aw c'mon, I ain't bugging you for myself. I'm bugging you because you're slow. And my grammar's just fine, thanks."

The blond swordsman smirked. "Says you. And the reason I'm slow is because I'm reluctant," he said. He carefully crossed the threshold. It almost felt like Zack was holding his breath in anticipation. Cloud was pretty nervous himself. He could feel the shorthairs on the back of his neck rise up. The never-aging warrior licked his lips and shuffled a little bit further in.

"Just treat it like a band-aid, the faster you rip it off the quicker the pain goes away," Zack announced, nearly making his living friend jump.

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Cloud shouted, removing a shaking hand from the hilt of his sword. "Don't do that! Scaring the shit out of me isn't healthy for anyone!"

"Sorry, sorry!"

"Ye gods, the things I put up with..." Cloud muttered darkly as he walked more confidently into the lab. Apparently whatever boogieman the blond had been expecting was not there. Of course if he saw Hojo or Sephiroth, Cloud would have completely freaked.

"You okay there, Cloud?"

"I would be if I knew the reason for my being here," Cloud said. "Now what in the hell am I supposed to look for?"

"Seriously, I can't say anything..."

"Well, if you're not gonna be of any help, then go hang out with Aeris or Angeal or gods forbid, Genesis."

"Aww, tired of me already?" Zack's pout was so obvious in his voice within Cloud's head. "And I don't wanna hang out with Genesis. I would put my fist through his face within the first few words of Loveless out of his mouth."

"Zack, seriously, go away. For once I don't want voices in my fucking head."

"Fine, I'll go bug Angeal." A pause then Zack spoke one last time. "Hey Cloud?"

"What?" Cloud pointedly skirted around the Mako tubes to go into the library. He stood in front of the desk, waiting for Zack to finish.

"We're friends, right?"

The blond stopped breathing for a moment. Then he sighed. "Always, Zack. What brought this on?"

"I just... I'm worried about you. You barely visit with Tifa and the others even more than what you used to. Hell, I was surprised when you attended Marlene and Denzel's twelfth wedding anniversary party."

"It's just... they look so old and I still look so young. They're going to die and me? I'll live forever. It's better this way."

"Cloud..."

"Don't you get it, Zack? I'm immortal. I'll never be in the Lifestream; hell I'll just taint it thanks to Jenova and Hojo. There's no heaven, no paradise for the damned. I'll wander Gaia for the rest of eternity. My fate is beyond hell, beyond anything. Tifa's moved on, everyone has. And I'm stuck like this. Even Vincent has gone back to sleep within the Wutai mountains; he can't stand his immortality. But I can't sleep, I don't have that ability to hibernate for decades on end."

"Do you want to sleep?"

"Zack, what the hell are you talking about?"

"I don't know anymore. Hey... if you could go back, would you?"

Cloud stared at the deteriorating wood of the desk. "Zack, explain yourself," he said angrily. "Why am I here?"

"Aeris really doesn't want you to do this, you know."

"Get to the point."

"Hah well..."

"Zack, you're stalling." Cloud sighed and walked over to a bookshelf. He unbuckled his sword harness and tossed both First Tsurugi and harness gently to the floor. The blond pressed his back against the shelves and sank down to sit on the dusty floor. He stared up at the cracked ceiling. "Zack?"

"Just answer the question, Spike. If you could-"

"Go back, would I? I don't know. Besides, that's impossible and you know it."

"Nothing's impossible, just improbable."

"Oh? When did you get smart?"

"You know, Cloud? You can be a real asshole. Come on; take me seriously. If you could go back, would you?"

"If I could go back..." Cloud shook his head. "Yes I would go back but only if I managed to keep the knowledge I had now while going back or else it wouldn't be worth it."

"Would you do it right now? With no regrets?"

"Yes."

"I'll be seeing you then."

"Wha-"

Lifestream shot up and before Cloud could scream he was engulfed and then...

Cloud Strife disappeared.

000

_Part Two: Phoenix_

Cloud Strife hated being a child again. He had not expected to be reborn literally; as in being born again by being pushed through his mother's birth canal. Highly traumatizing for a normal newborn, ten times that for a newborn with the mind of an adult. He was sure that he would have gone insane being stuck inside so helpless a body. Breast-feeding... well let's not get into that. Crapping himself wasn't pleasant either. He had been ecstatic when he could eat solids and use the toilet.

The five-year-old sighed and tried to refocus. But there was just so much to do and so little time. He only had eleven years now. Eleven years until Nibelheim burns. Sometimes the blond could see fear flash in his mother's eyes, as if she knew the darkness in her son's mind and heart. Leave it up to him to live up to his name of Strife. Damn, he was getting sidetracked again.

"Sky... what are you doing?"

Cloud grunted. "Nothing, Mother. I am just reading," he said. He shut the meaningless children's book that he had been pretending to read as a guise for plotting his next move. He remained seated at his little desk. "And I want to be called Cloud."

"Why must you insist on rejecting your name, Sky?" Thyra Strid sighed. "There is nothing wrong with it."

"It's Cloud."

Thyra clucked her tongue. "Sky means cloud in the old language so there is no difference." She shook her head. "I worry about you."

Cloud stiffened though he did not turn around to face his mother. "There is nothing to worry about, I promise."

"Why do you lie to me?"

"Mother, you don't understand..."

"Sometimes I think that you are not my Sky but Loki born again!" Thyra stormed away to her garden in the backyard.

"Damn it," Cloud hissed. He pushed and chair back and stood. He couldn't stand much more of this. His mother was going insane from his cold distance. But Cloud wasn't used to having a mother again. He didn't want a mother. He loved Thyra; there was no doubt of that. Yet he couldn't stand being treated like he was a mix between a mad dog and a helpless child. Cloud had what his grandmother called 'all-knowing eyes'. He knew he had the gaze of a world-weary adult; Grandmother Strid had recognized and accepted it. The Mako glow in them just supported the theory of his 'all-knowing eyes'. His mother on the other hand had no idea how to deal with a too adult Cloud who was stuck in a child's body.

Whispers rose up into Cloud's mind. The Planet attempted to sooth his frustration. He could also hear the distantly insidious hiss from Jenova high from the Nibel Mountains within the Mako reactor. It was strange and a little upsetting to know that he could still hear her voice. It was a reminder that he would never be free of her, even now. Jenova's essence and the Mako in his blood that had been trapped in his old body had been transmigrated along with him.

"Sidetracked. Always sidetracked," Cloud mumbled. He slowly began to gather his winter and summer clothes. He couldn't stay anymore. The boy who really wasn't a boy, at least in his head, had no choice in the matter. He didn't want his mother to hate him but Cloud didn't want to be held back either. He folded and rolled his clothes so that more could fit into his rucksack. The blond knew his mother would stay in the garden until it was time to cook supper. "Sorry, Mother. I'm sorry I couldn't be the boy I should have been." He then snuck to the kitchen to take some dried fruit and meat.

Sky Strid then crept out of the house and ran for the Shin-ra Mansion. And became no more.

000

Cloud skirted around several monsters and crept up the stairs. He had to get to the secret stairs that led to the basement. The blond knew that without an adult he would be defenseless and who better to help him with that problem than Vincent Valentine. The dilemma was getting to Vincent's coffin in one piece.

'I don't think I thought this through as carefully as I should have...' Cloud thought to himself. 'Maybe I should have waited a few more years. Ah, too late I suppose.' He breathed a sigh of relieve when the entrance to the basement opened with only a small creak. The little blond licked his lips and slowly began the treacherous descent that would lead to Vincent Valentine.

000

TBC?


	2. The Traveler

**The Traveler**

Disclaimer: Will never ever own even one of the Final Fantasy series... unless I somehow inherit them through some bizarre event in which I magically find out that I was related to the dude who owns all of SquareEnix and that he left it all to me. Lol... yeah right....

**Prologue**: A Single Step

Bang!

Cloud Strife blinked and fell to his knees. He shakily touched the exit wound on the chest from where the bullet had torn though. A pair of voices, filled with madness, muttered something that he couldn't quite hear despite his Mako enhanced abilities. Rage filled him and he grabbed his sword. He whirled up from his kneeling position, let out a roar, and charged. Just as Cloud was about to reach the two clones, they were enveloped in another explosion.

000

"Too bad, friend, it looks like you don't have a place here..." Zackary Fair's voice told Cloud.

No, what was 'too bad' was the fact that Cloud didn't agree with that statement. His eyes snapped open and he glared at Zack. "The hell you say," he croaked. He forcefully made himself float upright. His feet hit the field Aeris had always conjured up before. He, Zack, and Aeris were standing amongst the flowers. "Considering what I've put up with, resting in the Lifestream sounds good."

Zack sighed. "Cloud, people still need you alive," he pointed out. "Really, that Tifa chick totally wants you." He grinned at his friend's look of exasperation. "Don't glare like that, Spike. I know you don't feel that way about her. You gotta have your balls drop so you can be man enough to tell her."

"Zack!" Aeris Gainborough shrieked in reprimand from behind Cloud. The blond swordsman turned around to look at his other friend. "Hi Cloud, don't mind Zack. He's an idiot."

Cloud snorted. "You're singing to the choir, Aeris," he said. Then he blinked in surprise. He hadn't been sarcastic in a long time. "Err, sorry." The Cetra just smiled in amusement.

"Haha, Spike, I thought that evil, bitchy part of you was dissected from you or something. Man, you always had the best comebacks," Zack crowed. He slapped Cloud on the back. "Welcome back, dude."

"What in the hell makes you think I left, Lieutenant Moron?" Cloud sassed. Gods, it felt good speaking his mind again. Shiva only knows how many times the blond has had to bite his tongue in order not to make people cry.

The dead ex-SOLDIER let out a hoot of laughter. "Cloudy, I missed you," he said.

Cloud softened his expression and smiled sadly. "I missed you too, Zack. Gods, it's all my fault to begin—argh!" He sputtered as Zack put him in a headlock.

"Damnation, Spike. Here I thought you were back to normal then BAM! You're Mr. Guilty McGuilt! Ugh, your complex has only gotten worse! I oughta beat it right out of you! What happened to trying to forgive yourself? Shit, you were doing good too!"

"B... Bastard! Leggo!" Cloud howled, reminiscent of his cadet days when Zack would roughhouse with him. It immediately deteriorated into a wrestling match, like it always had. But this time Cloud could hold his own with ease. Finally Cloud had Zack flipped on his belly and was sitting on his back. "HA!" He even had the older male's hands pinned.

"Shit!" Zack laughed. "Ya got me!"

Aeris, who had been happy to let them wrestle despite the damage to her imaginary flowers, decided to interrupt. "Now boys, we have a lot to discuss," she chided. The two untangled and stood. "Much better. Let's all sit." The trio arranged themselves like the points of an equilateral triangle. "Now what's this about resting, Cloud?"

Cloud sighed and looked out into the hazy distance. "I'm tired, Aeris," he said wearily.

"But-" Zack cut himself off when Aeris glared at him. "Sorry, go ahead."

"I'm tired," the blond repeated now that Zack was done. "Tired of being a hero. Tired of being pulled this way and that. Tired of feeling guilty. Tired of.... being forced to be what I'm not. I'm not what Tifa really wants." Cloud snorted. "I'm a brooding bastard with a guilt complex and a hunger for some space. Space, dammit!" He threw his arms up in frustration. He was ready to go on a tirade now that he had a willing audience. "Stop smothering me! Stop nagging me! Stop calling every single hour! Stop trying to make me into Mr. Dad! I like Denzel and I like Marlene but I'm not fucking Daddy material! For fuck's sake!"

"Err, wow, dude..."

"And for the love of Holy, I don't give a flying rat's ass if Marlene been asking for me! She already has a father, who's more worried about being in the oil fields! Fuck that, she should be asking about Barrett! Not about me! And Denzel has serious issues if he thinks I'm some kind of role model! Do I look like I'm good role model material?! No, I don't! How can I be a father if I never had a father myself? Oh boy, that sure does make me Dad material, let me tell you!"

"Oh my..."

"Sure I care if they're hurt but I don't need an update every time one of them so much as picks their nose and eats it!!" Cloud bellowed.

"Oh ew, Spike..."

"Tifa needs to get a clue! I'm not going to marry her and make babies with her! Duh! I'm twenty-fucking-three!! My mama told me to make babies when I'm damn well ready to make them! I mean, she wanted me to get a girlfriend but she sure as hell didn't say for me to procreate early! Two years ago, I still had the thought patterns of a disturbed sixteen-year-old boy and right now I'm still physically sixteen! I'm tired of this. Tired, tired, tired!" Cloud was panting for breath. This was the first time since he was three that he threw anything resembling a temper tantrum. Damn... it felt good.

"Erm, well Cloud, I'm sorry you feel that way..." Aeris said hesitantly.

"AND!! And, I still don't feel like an adult. I never got to grow up. I'm barely aging as it is. Do I look like an adult to you?"

Zack bent forward a little and narrowed his glowing violet eyes. "Shit, you look like you did back before this whole mess started in Nibelheim seven years ago! Sixteen, all cute and stuff," he said. He winced at the super-powered glare thrown his way. "Sorry, just telling the truth."

Cloud deflated a little. "Sorry... I'm sorry." He buried his face in his hands. "I sounded like some whiny little kid."

Aeris patted the blond on the shoulder. "It looks like you needed to vent a little, Cloud. I understand. Sometimes, it just helps to scream it all out."

"Yeah?" Cloud asked. He stood up. "Hold on a sec." He ambled a few feet away, sucked in a breath and started to scream. And scream. And scream. After a couple of minutes of continuous screaming, he gulped in a breath and went back to sitting with his two friends. He then nodded his head. "Yeah, screaming helped." The swordsman grinned at their dumbfounded expressions. "What were we talking about again?"

"Umm..." Aeris floundered.

"About why you want to stay in the Lifestream and how you're tired," Zack said in an effect to cover up his bemusement.

"Ah." Cloud nodded. "It's not like I want to die, really. I just..."

"Don't want to deal with the stupidity of others," the ex-SOLDIER First supplied. He ignored Aeris' exasperated glare. He was good at that, having had put up with similar glares from Angeal and Sephiroth.

"It's not just that. The only ones who really let me be myself, that are alive, are surprisingly Cid and, not so surprisingly, Vincent." Cloud shrugged. "Everyone else is caught up in what they believe me to be, even Barrett."

"It's not like you communicate well, Cloud," Aeris gently pointed out. "You are rather silent, what else are they supposed to do?"

Cloud shrugged. "I don't know, ask maybe?" he quipped. "Never hurts to ask, you know. Might actually get an answer."

"Oh... good point." Aeris looked a little embarrassed.

"Listen, Cloud, I know you don't want to go back but you gotta, okay?" Zack said. "Unfinished business and besides, you're still alive actually."

Cloud sighed. "Fine, I'll do it. Just... talk to me more, please. Not during the day, because I'm already crazy as it is. Maybe... my dreams?" he asked. "And no more interrupting me while I'm riding on my motorcycle or else I _will_ die... from crashing." The blond pointedly looked at the sheepish Aeris.

"Sorry, Cloud," the green-eyed Cetra said.

"Aw, don't be so hard on her, Spike."

"Yeah, yeah, whiny-butt," Cloud teased. He avoided looking at Zack's puppy dog pout. "Zap me back then, or whatever."

"Okay."

The field of flowers and Cloud's two most precious friends faded away to white.

000

There was a party downstairs. A party that Cloud was hiding from in the room that Tifa had proclaimed as his. Actually, Cloud was packing what few clothes he had stored in the living space above the bar. After healing Denzel and everything else, the blond swordsman wanted to leave. But no, Tifa just had to throw a party. He didn't want a party, just some sleep. For Holy's sake, he had just fought off Kadaj, Kadaj-as-Sephiroth, and had just been shot from behind by more Sephiroth wannabes. Was sleep a little too much to ask for? Obviously it was...

"Going somewhere?" a deep voice said from the doorway.

Cloud jumped in surprise, horrified that someone managed to sneak up on him. He looked over and sighed in relief. "Vincent, don't sneak on me like that," he said. It figured only Vincent would be able to get one up on him anymore. The blond turned his gaze back to his small pack and zipped it shut.

"Cloud, you do know she's going to catch you."

"Only if you tell on me," Cloud said, looking at Vincent suspiciously.

Vincent quirked the corners of his lips in amusement. "I wouldn't dream of it, Cloud," the gunslinger drawled. "But she is a persistent female."

Cloud snorted. "You're telling me," he muttered. The swordsman swung his pack over the shoulder that didn't have First Tsurugi's handle and pommel in the way. "I'm surprised you're still here."

"Cid's my ride back to the Forest of Ancients."

"Huh, that so?"

"Yes."

There was a minute pause then Cloud spoke. "Hey, Vincent, have you ever just screamed for the hell of it?" he asked as he opened the window that looked out at the back alley.

"No, why?"

"Huh. You should try it. It feels good, you know." Cloud hurtled himself out of the window and landed like a cat in the alleyway. He looked up to see Vincent leaning out to stare at him with steady crimson eyes. "Hey Vincent!"

"Yes?"

"Sometimes, it just helps to scream it all out!" Cloud laughed and ran for Fenrir that was parked in the entrance of the alley.

"If you say so," the gunslinger said to the night sky. The rumble of Fenrir's engine made Vincent smile.

Tifa was going to throw a hissy fit.

000

**Chapter One**: A Journey of a Thousand Leagues

Cloud was immensely glad that he had lost his phone in the Forgotten City. He knew he would've been bombarded with calls from Tifa. Hopefully Vincent could convince Cid not to give rides in an effort to find him. Cloud would communicate when he felt like it. He supposed that he should get a new phone but only give that number to the gunslinger. The blond really didn't feel like continuing his delivery service. He had never had a good head for business. The best twenty ways to slay a dragon, now that he knew.

"Hey, storm's a-coming, you might want to get below deck," a sailor said. He pointed at the dark swirling clouds.

"Yes, thank you," Cloud said. He straightened up from where he was leaning against the railing of top deck. The swordsman had managed to hitch a ride on a cargo ship in exchange for labor at the docks. Hopefully this storm wouldn't reactivate his motion sickness. He paused and stared at the ominous clouds. "No funny business now."

000

The ship was rocking precariously. Cloud felt a little green in the gills from the violent swaying. To say that the poor blond was nauseated was to put it mildly. No thanks to his good-for-nothing Mako enhancements He tried to find a corner to curl up in so that he could put his head between his knees.

All of a sudden the ship tilted too far and Cloud scrambled to find purchase. No amount of grace, Mako gifted or naturally gifted, would have been able to help him. He tumbled ass over teakettle against the wall. Which had just become the floor considering that the ship was now sideways.

"Oh shit!"

000

"We need to stop meeting like this, Cloud."

Cloud cracked his eyes open. "Zack?" he whispered. "What the hell happened?" He sat up slowly and looked at the gently swaying flowers. He shook his head. "Am I dead yet?" he wondered aloud in a dry tone.

"No, not yet. Right now, you're.... somewhere that I can't really recognize," Zack answered with a shrug. "Sorry. Anyway, Aeris is off with the three weird Sephiroth-wannabes. Doing something." He waved his hand as if to brush off the notion. "So you're stuck with me until you wake up."

"Wonderful." Cloud rolled his eyes. "So, how's the afterlife?"

"Eh... still cleaning house with the last of Jenova's remains. Almost done in fact."

"That's good."

"Where did you plan on going anyway?" Zack asked.

The blond swordsman shrugged. "No idea, really." He paused and furrowed his brow. "Does this mean I've lost Fenrir to the sea?" Cloud sounded a bit put out.

Zack winced. "Yeah, you did. Too bad, that was a sweet bike. Who built it anyway?" he asked.

"I built it with Cid teaching me along the way," Cloud said. "It took me forever to get it right. Damn, I loved Fenrir." Now he looked cross, as if he were about to throw a temper tantrum. Then he slumped in defeat. "No use, I suppose, in whining about it. I'll just have to build a new one."

"Uh... Spike, you're stranded on an island with no means of communication," Zack reminded him.

"Right. Double damn. I still have First Tsurugi, right?"

"Yeah, you had the whole damn thing strapped to your back. Surprised you didn't sink all the way to the bottom."

Cloud shrugged. "There was no way in hell I was going to leave any part of my sword in Fenrir while on the ship. I'm paranoid," he said.

"I'll say," Zack muttered. He shook his hedgehog-spiked head and grinned. "Cloud, you would have been a kick-ass SOLDIER, you know."

"No I wouldn't have. Remember, I had self-esteem issues back then. And was a bully target apparently."

"Hah, you still have issues, dude."

"Gee, thanks. And you're so totally issue free, aren't you?" Cloud taunted with a companionable smile.

Zack just shrugged. "I handle myself pretty good," he said.

Cloud actually leered. "I bet, Mr. Right-hand One-Night Stand." The blond chortled at his own crude joke. He had been in the military after all, just not a SOLDIER.

The ex-SOLDIER gasped. "Cloud!" he shrieked in an unbecoming manner. "I can't believe you!"

"You sound like a grandma now, Zack." Cloud was now outright laughing at his gaping, sputtering friend. A friend that for once had nothing to say in retaliation. "No way, you're actually speechless. New record, new record!" the blond crowed. Then he squawked as Zack lunged at him. "AH!"

"Take it back!" Zack bellowed as he and Cloud wrestled. Of course it was playful but still the shock of Cloud's surprising crudeness had driven the brunette man to make his friend take it back.

000

Aeris could only shake her head. Good grief, her boys were a rowdy pair. She watched, with Kadaj, Yazoo, and Loz, as Zack and Cloud reduced themselves to being mere children. Then she smiled. Good for them, especially Cloud. If anyone deserved some playtime, it was the blond man.

"Are they always like that?" Kadaj asked curiously.

"No, they've never gotten a chance to play a lot," Aeris answered.

"I want to play too!" Loz announced.

"Looks a little rough," Yazoo said in disagreement. "Besides, I doubt that Big Brother Cloud would appreciate us intruding." The slim boy played nervously with the silky ends of his bright silver hair. "No, he would not be happy."

The Cetra hummed. "I think, Yazoo, that you should ask. You might be surprised," she said with a twinkle in her eye. "Yes, that's it. Never hurts to ask, you know. Might actually get an answer." She had blatantly repeated Cloud's words from several days earlier.

Kadaj nodded his understanding. "You're right," he said. "Let's ask to see if our big brothers will let us play with them." He smiled shyly at Aeris. "Right?"

Aeris nodded.

000

Zack and Cloud were sitting with their backs pressed together, both panting. The older swordsman scratched his nose. "Hey, the triplets are here with Aeris," he announced. "Looks like they're talking." He briefly wondered silently if Cloud would be hostile.

"Oh? Yes, I noticed. They're harmless now, I think." Cloud shrugged. "I don't hold grudges well."

"Nope, just guilt," the brunette of the duo said cheerfully.

"Haha."

"They're walking towards us."

Cloud grunted. "I don't feel like getting up," he said. Then he and Zack watched as the three Sephiroth clones knelt before the duo.

"Hi," Kadaj said. He fidgeted. "Big Brother... I..." He swallowed nervously. "I'm sorry," he choked out. He fought the tears in his eyes. "You were right. You were right. I was just a puppet! I'm sorry. Really, really sorry."

"I'm sorry too!" Loz blurted. He was openly crying. "I didn't mean to be a bad boy!"

"I apologize as well," Yazoo spoke shakily. "We were wrong."

Cloud shifted so he could fully face them. He ignored Aeris' pleading face and Zack's move from his side. He reached out to Kadaj, who was sitting between his brothers. The youngest of the trio flinched but the blond was undaunted. He patted Kadaj on the head. "It's alright," he said soothingly. "As long as you realize your mistakes, it's fine." Then, in a fit of playfulness, he ruffled the clone's perfect hair. Kadaj stared with wide, disconcerted eyes. His silver hair stuck out at odd angles from the slightly rough but platonic treatment. The blond swordsman laughed at his expression. "Don't worry kid, you'll do fine here." He reached out to pat Loz on the shoulder and to teasingly tug on a shorter section of Yazoo's hair. "I've never had little brothers before," he said in a vague manner. "Huh."

000

"Aww, they're so cute!" Aeris said as Zack sauntered up to her.

"Yep, Big Brother Cloudy. What a hoot." Zack laughed and ducked under his girlfriend's swat. "Now, now, that's not how you should treat your beloved."

"Beloved. Ha, well I'd love to beat you when you get too annoying." She rolled her eyes at Zack's wide grin. "You're ridiculous, you know."

"Yes ma'am, I do know." This time he let her hit him on the bicep. All the while he was laughing and his glowing violet eyes twinkled even brighter.

000

"Cloud, you're fading," Yazoo pointed out. The three had been chattering excitedly about what Aeris had been teaching before the eldest of the three had announced his observation.

"Oh no, what does that mean?" Loz asked. Kadaj could only look on in worry.

Cloud smiled. "It means I'm waking up now," he said. He cocked his head. "We'll see each other again someday, okay?" He waved a goodbye to Zack and Aeris, who returned said wave. He smiled at the three before him. "Behave, alright?" Though he had a feeling it would be a very, very long time until he ended up for a visit at the Lifestream.

"We will," Kadaj answered just as Cloud finished disappearing.

000

Cloud groaned. He coughed out a mouthful of sand and seawater. He blinked his electric blue eyes. The swordsman was belly side down on the beach and he painfully pushed himself into a kneeling position. He heaved and vomited the rest of the seawater out in front of him. He grimaced as he scuttled backward to avoid his own bodily fluids. The blond grimaced at the feel of crusted salt and sand on his skin and in his hair. He blinked away his disgust and swayed up into a standing position. The weight of First Tsurugi seemed heavier than usual. But then again, Cloud was still slightly waterlogged and sandy.

"Fuck..." Cloud muttered. He eyed the white beach suspiciously. This was not Costa del Sol that was for sure. The lack of tourists was a major giveaway. But the locals, strangely dressed in yellow overalls with no shirts, were staring at him and at something behind him. He turned…

A strange blue and white ball came sailing at Cloud's face from the sea that he had washed up from. The blond swordsman, with lightning quick reflexes, caught the ball. He glared at the blond boy swimming to shore.

"Nice catch," the boy said. "You play blitzball too?"

Blitzball? Just where the fuck was this place?

000

TBC?


	3. The Wanted Man

**The Wanted Man**

Disclaimer: No own, no sue, the end.

000

Prologue: An End to My Running

The last stand.

Its concept was a romantic one, with cowboys and tumbleweeds and cheesy spaghetti western music. The bad guys took aim. The good guys prepared to fire back. The music reached a crescendo. Triggers were squeezed. Shots sounded off. Bullets flew through the air.

The world held its breath.

But this showdown was nothing like the OK corral where the good guys won the day. First of all, the good guy was a singular being with no back-up, considering his companion was comatose. Second of all, he only had a sword and he could only block so many bullets with its considerably wide blade. And lastly, he was out-numbered and exhausted.

The odds weren't good.

The last stand was just that, the last.

Zack Fair charged, knowing he was going to die. As bullets dug into his flesh, his blood splattered everywhere like paint across a canvas. But he took down as many of those sons-of-bitches as he could.

And then the good guy fell and was left to rot.

A warrior's death with sword in hand.

Nevertheless, Zack Fair was forgotten; lost to all who should have remembered him save for two who had been reduced to one at the end of the Crisis.

And so this story begins, not with his last legacy, but instead with the man himself in the next life.

A hero's tale with a new beginning…

000

PART ONE: So Far From My Home

Rain soaked the ground and flooded the riverbeds. Lightning flashed across the heavens and thunder rumbled amongst the clouds. Elementals danced and jittered about randomly. Desert hyenas chased each other and the occasional foolish traveler. And despite the fact that it was high noon, the Giza Plains were drenched in shadow from the heavy clouds.

A hooded figure with a massive Defender great-sword strapped to his broad, muscled back hurried through the plains, deftly avoiding the monsters. As soon as he reached the cobbled stones that led up to the Southern gate of the Royal City of Rabanastre, the man pulled back his hood, revealing spiky black hair and piercing, practically glowing, electric blue eyes. His expression was blank. A small cross-shaped scar decorated his lower left cheek just above his square jaw-line. Several women eyed his handsome face with interest which was not even acknowledged by the man. Instead he walked, dripping wet, toward the gate. The Royal guard eyed him but let him through, muttering about the rainy season in the Plains.

Zack Fair calmly entered the city, the sound of his heavy boots treading across stone lost to the chattering of the milling people in the Southern Plaza. Nodding at a few people that he was acquainted with, the ex-SOLDIER entered East End and straight into Migelo's shop.

"Ah, welcome, welcome!" the blue Bangaa said cheerily. "Rainy season already, Mr. Fair?"

Zack smiled, softening the sharp angles of his face though it was not the wide grin of his youth. "Yes, unfortunately. Sorry for dripping on your floor." He shrugged his broad shoulders as the older being waved off his apology with a toothy grin. "Anyway, I need to stock up on hi-potions and remedies. Four sets of five, each."

"Very good. Please feel free to browse while I fill your order," Migelo said with a gesture that encompassed the entire store. He hurried off to the stockroom.

The blue-eyed man eyed the display of herbs with vague interest. He recognized some of them as local spices while several others were raw potion ingredients. The tall warrior wandered over to another display, picking up baubles to examine and then put back. Zack then turned when he felt someone's gaze on him. He looked down with raised eyebrows.

A small girl with big gray eyes and blonde hair braided into pigtails looked up at him and smiled wide. "Hi mister!" she chirped excitedly. "What'cha looking at?"

Zack looked at the bracelet he was holding. He put it back. "Stuff," he answered. He smiled at her. "What are you doing?"

"My mommy's over there! So I'm waiting for her. But don't worry, I won't touch anything because she said I'm not allowed to!" she replied, pointing an excited finger at a woman who was browse at the other end of the store.

"I see," Zack said. He made a shooing gesture with his hands. "You'd best get back to her before she gets mad for you wandering."

The girl gasped. "Oh! You're right! Bye!" And she scuttled off and started to chatter at her mother.

Zack quickly finished his business with Migelo and hurried out the door.

And that was when Zack Fair first met young Penelo of Rabanastre.

000

Now I'm quite sure you're wondering just how in the hell Zack Fair, ex-SOLDIER of Gaia and all around dead guy, ended up alive and in the middle of Ivalice.

So let's rewind to his death on that blood soaked cliff top.

000

Zack breathed out his last breath and Cloud continued on his way to Midgar, dragging his dead friend's sword with him.

Bright green tendrils of energy leeched out of the fallen man's body and his physical form was absorbed into the earth below him. His spirit materialized into the Lifestream and he was forced to watch the events of Meteor from beginning to end. And then he watched as Cloud finished off the rest of Sephiroth's clones and their plans two years after that.

Zack watched and waited. And he despaired for his friend. Despaired for Cloud as the blond man was forced to walk Gaia for all of eternity. No death or rest. Decades passed. Then centuries. Then millennia. In the end Cloud went mad and hid himself deep in the Nibel Mountains, trapped within his own mind and babbling.

Without his treasured friend and despite the presence of his mentor and girlfriend, Zack called out to the Goddess. First he begged her to let him come back for Cloud. He was denied. Then he pleaded to be sent back into his younger self's body to undue his mistakes and to fix all of the wrongs done by Hojo and Hollander. Again Zack was denied. And then finally he went down onto his metaphorical knees and supplicated one last time.

'Send me anywhere! I can't watch this! Not anymore. Please! Oh, please…'

The Goddess consented. She sent him to Ivalice but with a price.

Immortality was his.

000

It took Zack twenty years of wandering to fully adapt to life in Ivalice. He became a mercenary, a hunter, a bodyguard, and a variety of other odd jobs. Despite his immortality, he was content.

And then sorrow came once more to Ivalice…

000

PART TWO: Live By The Sword Till The End

A gray cloud hung over the city. There was no laughter in the streets. The crowds were silent, solemn. So much death drowned the spirits of the living. Orphans huddled together in the street corners, their hungry eyes staring out in despair. The plague had visited so many and stole many more. Black lengths of cloth hung like banners in windows, visible symbols of grief within the households of the Rabanastre. What was the worst were the wide, black banners that hung from the palace walls. The princes and the queen now were all dead from war and/or disease. Only the young princess Ashelia and King Raminas lived.

All hope seemed lost.

Zack nearly choked on the stifling air that blanketed the streets. He stumbled quickly to the Southern Gate. Never mind that he had just arrived by airship since the city-wide quarantine was over, he could not stay here. He ignored the stares and ran far into the desert and straight onward to the Ozmone Plains. By the time he blinked away his daze the ex-SOLDIER realized that he was southern most part of the plain just beyond the Jahara. He grimaced at the thought that he had wandered here unconsciously and had miraculously managed to avoid being eaten or trampled by the various monsters littering the Plains.

"Ho! Warrior, is there something wrong?" called a voice. Zack turned a little to see the Garif that had addressed him. "Are you well?"

"Yes, fine," Zack croaked. "I just came from Dalmasca as a pit stop to Mount Bur-Omisace"

The Garif let out a 'tsk' and shook his head and massive mask. "I see. Much do the people of Dalmasca suffer. I grieve with them. However I fear that you are going to wrong way to the sacred mountain," he pointed out in subtle amusement.

"Yes, I know."

"Hmm, perhaps you wish to rest? We would welcome you from your pilgrimage to Bur-Omisace."

Zack bowed. "I would be grateful," he replied, exhaustion making his broad shoulders slump.

"Then come, this way." With a soft jangle of his mask's decorations, the Garif led the immortal to the Jahara village.

000

TBC?


	4. Untitled

**Untitled**

000/000

The skies were weeping, the rain pouring down in heavy sheets. Desmond Miles stood in the alley with his hooded head bowed and his shoulders hunched. The white of his pullover was colored gray from the warm wet falling from the clouds. His torso heaved with each labored breath. Another safe house had been breached, their group now scattered through the streets of Newport, Kentucky. Across the Ohio River was the city of Cincinnati and the Reds' baseball stadium, the Great American Ball Park. He knew that he had to get across to the meeting point and then to next safe house where Rebecca had already shipped off their Animus when the first hint that Abstergo was close came to them. He, Shaun Hastings, and Lucy Stillman had scarpered out at last minute since Rebecca had gone with the Animus 2.0, dodging Templars and Vedic, and then split up. He was supposed to meet them in Fountain Square in the Central Business District of the city in order to head out to the safe house.

Fuck, and he had to walk all the way there and pray to God that he wasn't caught.

Desmond hissed out a few choice curse words and began his trek to the nearest bridge that he could walk across to the other side of the river. He knew it was damned lucky that the rain was warm and that it was mid-summer in Ohio. His sneakers sloshed in an uncomfortable fashion as he walked and his jeans chaffed against his thighs and calves. Those were going to be a bitch to peel off later.

000/000

"Hey! Guys, welcome to our new abode!" Rebecca Crane shouted as she popped up from underneath her desk. The smile on her face faded at the sight of her three associates. "Geez, what'd you do? Take a swim in the Ohio River?"

Thoroughly soaked and peeved, Shaun growled. "Where's the bathroom?" he demanded sourly. He had removed his glasses awhile back so he was squinting at her.

"Umm, down that hall," Rebecca pointed to her left, "take the left hall at the intersection and it's at the end." She pouted when she wasn't thanked as the strawberry-blond man scuttled off, dripping as he exited the room. "So what happened?"

"Haven't you looked out the window at all?" Desmond asked as he unzipped his hoody to take it off. "It's fucking raining cats and dogs out there."

Rebecca blinked and looked out the window. "Oh... didn't know that. I was setting up Baby all day. Put in a few upgrades too!" she chirped.

Lucy sighed at her, undoing her hairclip to let the dripping blond strands of her hair fall in clumps. She began to wring out the excess water. "Really Becca, upgrades? What kind of upgrades?" she asked. The blonde didn't seem to care that she would have to mop up the tile floor by the door later.

"Just speeding up the loading process and getting rid of few snags here and there," the brunette woman replied. "Ugh, Des! Don't just plop your sweatshirt on the floor!"

Desmond looked up from where he was wringing out the bottom of his white t-shirt. "What? Oh." He looked down at the sodden piece of clothing he had dumped by his feet. "Sorry. Hey, is there a laundry room here?" He said a quick thanks for the directions, scooped up his hoody with a grimace, and trotted off with sloshing squishing sound emitting from his feet.

000/000

Fifteen hours' worth of sleep later, Desmond was laying in the Animus 2.0, otherwise known as Baby, waiting to get uploaded into Ezio's memories of Rome and the rebuilding of the Brotherhood. He didn't even blink anymore when his finger was pricked with the machine's needle. Instead chocolate brown eyes drifted closed as the Animus yanked his consciousness into the loading screen. And that is where things went wrong...

000/000

Somewhere hidden deep in the lost city of Atlantis, a Piece of Eden flashed gold and red.

000/000

During the year 1194 AD, Malik Al-Sayf frowned down at the sleeping Altaïr who was slumped at his desk with his cheek pressed against the drying ink of his writings and the Apple of Eden clutched in his other hand. He snorted at the thought that the other would have his own words smeared across his face. The older assassin frowned and reached out with his only hand. Fingertips brushed across the metal surface of the Apple. He cried out as the artifact flashed and he was engulfed in light.

Altaïr awoke just in time to see his Brother disappear bathed in golden light.

000/000

**_I have no idea if I want to continue this at all. Hence its placement in the Pit. Notice that I've changed the category. _**


	5. Mirrors

**Mirrors**

_**Disclaimer**__:_ I do not own anything in these franchises; I'm just playing in their perspective sandboxes.

_Note: __this is non-HBP/DH compliant, usually none of my HP stories are. Thought that I should remind my repeat readers of that particular fact. _

000/000

**CHAPTER ONE**

000/000

_**Part One:**__ Disappear_

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

A hooded head jerked up from lying on a desktop because of the sound filling the air. The head turned to eye the beeping apparatus, eyebrows rising up a forehead from beneath the shadows of the white cowl. The body connected to head and hood stood up to walk over to the instrument. A hand reached out to press a button, a holographic screen popping up.

"About bloody time someone answered this thing!" said the person showcased on the screen with a sharp British accent. "What were you doing, napping?"

"Yes."

A frustrated silence and then the other continued huffily. "Whatever. We have a situation!" he said.

"Oh?"

"One of the sleeper descendants has awakened the Eagle Vision."

The hooded head leaned down closer to the holographic screen. "Who is it?"

"Harry Potter."

000/000

Sweltering heat rose up from the sidewalks of Surrey. One could almost see the waves of heat floating in the air. It was the hottest summer to date. One boy, dressed in oversized and rag-like hand-me-downs, could attest to the heat as he scrambled up a tree with sweaty, slippery fingers. His sharp face was twisted in fear and confusion, the sounds of his pursuers echoing in the distance. When he managed to hide himself in the canopy of the small woods, he sat on a thick branch and wrapped his long limbs around the trunk of the tree he was in. He pressed his wet forehead against the bark with his eyes squeezed shut. He had lost his glasses a while back during the chase. Of course apparently his eyes had gone wacky.

This boy, a dreadfully undersized fifteen-year-old, was named Harry James Potter, better known as Freak by his relatives and as the Boy-Who-Lived by the Wizarding World. That's right, Wizarding World, for he was the magical scion to the Ancient and Noble House of Potter. Not that he knew about the Ancient and Noble part. But enough about that; his eyes were his main concern.

Dudley, his cousin, and his gang had turned bright red in his vision whilst he was being chased down. He could still see the shapes and details of his surroundings, including other people who had been ignoring the blatant bullying occurring in front of them. But the ones chasing him had been highlighted in crimson. Harry wanted to cry but he couldn't find it in himself to summon the tears. Instead his sweat rolled down his temples, got caught at the corners of his eyes, and rolled down again in a poor imitation.

What was happening to him?

000/000

"Can you get a lock-on?" asked the hooded person in white.

The other person shown on the holographic screen frowned. "Yes, but it's wavering in and out. Don't know what's happening really." From beyond the visual of the screen, he seemed to be fiddling with something. "Ah, he's hiding..." he trailed off for a moment. "And blending. No wonder the signal is flickering a little."

"Templars?"

"No, there are no known Templars in Surrey."

"Who is he running from then, to be so dire as to activate the Eagle Vision?"

"Well, his sixteenth birthday is coming up," the British one of the two pointed out.

"Yes, that is usually the youngest age when it is viable for the ability to initiate..." the hooded one replied. "That is not welcome news, however."

"That's why I contacted you."

000/000

Harry didn't think it to be magic; if anything, he would at least be able to sense that. But no, whatever this strange ability, it did not stem from his magical heritage. But he knew so little about any of his heritage, magical or Muggle. And behind the panic and fear, he knew deep down it was just another manipulation by Dumbledore in the name of 'the greater good' to be kept so ignorant. He was tired of being ignorant and being coddled and being lied to his face. The young wizard was also just plain tired. It was a miracle that he had had the strength to escape from his cousin's gang and climb so far up into a tree away from sight.

Nightmares and bloody visions came nightly. Screams would be silently caught in his throat every time he woke up. He didn't know if the visions were real thanks to the false ones given to him just before he had to leave Hogwarts that led to his godfather's death. Bags of exhaustion hung deep beneath his lower eyelids. His eyes were sunken and rimmed with red constantly. Pallid skin stretched over a body too thin to be healthy was nearly gray. Limbs trembled and fingers shook as they grasped the tree with what little might that they had. His messy hair was dry and brittle from the lack of proper nutrition and rest.

And still the strange perception of his world in gray with red and blue and white, white signifying the canopy where he was currently hiding in, persisted. Unbeknownst to him, instead of acid green eyes peeking out from beneath his eyelashes his irises was an eagle gold in color. His ears were perked for maximum hearing as the trampling of Dudley and his gang echoed up from the ground. Harry smiled grimly at the fact that people rarely looked up. Not that anyone could have seen him thanks to the thick foliage that masked his physical presence from beneath. Small figures bathed in crimson light bobbed and weaved among the tree trunks below, signifying his pursuers.

The edges of the young wizard's eyesight blinked in red as well and Harry instinctually knew that it wasn't safe for him to come down yet, even as the small, red-highlighted figures of Dudley's gang veered out of plain sight. And so he waited and he wondered about this red vision.

000/000

"Alright," the hooded person said grimly. "How soon can you arrange a flight for me?"

"Ah, I already did, you have four hours until your flight takes off," the Brit said solemnly over the communication line. "You'll arrive at sunrise at Heathrow Airport, London, England. You can pick up your ticket at JFK using your Spanish alias and passport along with your driver's license. I'm signing out." The holographic screen blinked out of existence.

The white-hooded one quickly gathered the necessary passes and paperwork and an always packed duffel bag set by the door.

000/000

_**Part Two:**__ Histories_

The hum of jet engines vibrated in the economy-class cabin of the airplane. Many of the passengers in the plane were fast asleep and a few were awake but silent. One of the awake passengers was a man who appeared to be in his mid to late twenties. His dark brown hair was cropped short; the strands barely long to be considered an inch lay flat against his skull. Golden brown eyes were concentrated down on a book that was placed on his folding tray. Dusky colored skin and a hawkish nose gave away the fact that there might be Middle Eastern ancestry in his veins. But his most distinguishing feature on his face was a slight, vertical scar that bisected the middle of his chin.

"Good morning ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking." Slowly those that had been asleep woke up from the voice blaring out over the intercom. "We are now nearing Heathrow Airport. ETA is one hour. I am now switching on the seatbelt sign so please buckle yourselves in." The captain's voice fizzled out and flight attendants quickly roused any still sleeping passengers, urging them to put on their seatbelts and to put away their folding trays if those were out.

The young man who had originally been awake closed his book with a quiet snap, replacing his tray into the back of the seat in front of him. With one hand, he buckled himself in without prompt and leaned back with his closed book in his lap. He knew that he had to move quickly before the sleeper descendant, Harry Potter, turned sixteen and was taken away by the wizards again. He scowled at the thought of the wand-wielders that had poached onto Brotherhood territory, first by taking Lily Evans and now by taking her son. The others of the Bloodline and those of the Brotherhood overall weren't thrilled with the Wizarding World for interfering with both Lily and the young Harry after a centuries-old treaty to not to take any of the Bloodline who showed magical talent. The ones with magic were supposed to be trained by a specific branch in the Brotherhood. Magi Brothers were a vital part of the war against their enemies.

But the Brotherhood had waited to see if Lily would activate her Eagle Vision despite being trained as a wand-witch. However, she had died because of a wizard threat. When they had found out that her son had been left with another sleeper, his Brothers had warned Petunia to not to let the wizards take the boy. She had failed in that. He was curious in what else she had failed in because she had not reported to the Brotherhood at all since.

Alex Miles had to see his fellow descendant's status with his own eyes and his own Vision.

000/000

Petunia Dursley look up from her crossword puzzle because the doorbell was ringing. She scowled, her horse-like face scrunching up. The blonde knew she couldn't tell the freak boy to answer the door for her. With a huff, she threw down her crossword book and got up from the couch. She jerked the front door open. But the snappy reprimand died in her throat at the sight of a man in a white, short-sleeved, and hooded shirt. His stern face looked down at her with narrowed golden brown eyes. She let out a chocking sound when he held up a familiar stylized, teardrop-shaped pendant on a silver chain. "Yo... you!" she gasped out in horror.

"Better let me in," the man said with a warning tone. "Don't want your neighbors to be watching this."

A trembling, fake smile crossed Petunia's thin lips. "Of course, so good to see you," she said. She stepped aside to let in the man, closing the door after he entered. "Why have you come?" The man didn't answer and instead walked further into the living room and started to examine the pictures. "Well?" she shrieked.

"You were given a task by the Brotherhood," the man replied slowly. "But I do not see him or his photo anywhere."

The horse-faced blonde blanched. "What... what do you want with the freak?" she wondered in a shaky voice. A scream became lodged in her throat when a throwing knife flew by her face, embedding itself on the wall above the cupboard under the stairs. She then let out a sob when the man's golden brown eyes, which were staring straight at her, turned pure gold instead. The woman sunk down to her knees when a snarl formed on his face.

"So, you have become our enemy," the man growled. "Tell me, traitorous whore, have you sold us out? Do the Templars have tea here?" Before any more angry questions to spew out from his lips, his gaze jerked to the side, seeing something. "Gold..." He stepped forward, taking back his throwing knife, and then around to stand at the base of the stairs. "I suggest that you don't move." Petunia could only squeak, her eyes rolling back as she fainted. "Or you can do that." He scowled and began his ascent up the steps.

000/000

Alex Miles closed his eagle-gold eyes and pressed his forehead against the door with six locks and a cat flap. He tried breathing exercises to calm his temper. He tried counting to ten in several different languages. But the bubbling, boiling rage in his veins didn't want to abate. His brothers here in the UK should have kept a better eye on the sleepers of number Four Privet Drive. The few signs that he had already seen without even opening the door he was leaning against pointed to one conclusion: abuse. He pushed himself away from the door, dug out his lock picking set from his denim jean pocket. He went to work at picking the locks. Bile rose in his throat, mixing with the taste of failure. They had all failed. Once the final lock fell open, Alex stepped through the door and held back a gasp, his nose twitching.

A bruised and battered teenaged boy, more thirteen than fifteen physically, looked up from his broken bed. A shackle bound his thin right ankle and a bit of chain attached him to the bed. There was a bucket in the corner of the small room that smelled faintly of urine. Dull eagle gold eyes stared up at him. "You're blue," the boy rasped. "Or am I going mad?"

Kneeling down on the filthy floor, the white-clad Alex rested his hands upon his knees. "You're not going crazy," he said softly. He tapped the skin below one of his own eagle gold eyes. "See, I have the same eyes."

"Oh. Aunt Petunia must have freaked out on you like she did when I came home with mine like this."

"That's because she knows what it means."

The boy shook his head. "Don't matter. Just another freaky thing that I can do." He swallowed. "Do you see people in red and blue?"

"Yes. Red is for enemies, blue is for allies, and sometimes gold if I'm targeting someone."

"And white is hiding places, right?"

"You're very clever to figure that out. Took me forever when it first happened to me."

"Who are you?"

"Ah, my name is Alex Miles; I'm from America."

"I knew that much just from your accent. I'm Harry." The teen shifted, his chain jangling.

Alex held up his lock pick set. "It's good to meet you. Here, let me get you out of that." He knew that the teen was watching as he nimbly jimmied the shackle. He saw a small smile forming on the other's face from the corner of his eye, his Eagle Vision still turned on. "Pretty good, yeah?"

"Wish I knew how to do that," Harry said.

"It'll be one of the things you'll learn."

The boy tensed. "What does that mean?" he demanded.

The older man leaned back on his haunches and smiled sadly. "She never told you, did she? About the Evans family?"

"My... mum's family?"

"That's right."

"How do I know you're not lying?"

"What do your eyes tell you?" Alex didn't flinch when the teen leaned forward to the point where their noses nearly brushed against the other. Bright raptor eyes stared at him.

"You're not my enemy; that much I know. Dudley and his gang were red and they always want to hurt me. Aunt Petunia is red too and Uncle Vernon." Harry sat back, his thin face so bruised and swollen that the expression of pain and sorrow was made the more prominent. "Especially red as Uncle Vernon... hurt me..."

The dark-haired man wanted to roar his rage but his schooled his face into blankness. "The Evans family is a part of the Brotherhood," he said. "Descendants of a very special bloodline that went dormant in their family a hundred years ago. We called the subsequent descendants sleepers, including your mother. That bloodline leads to the vision that you are now stuck in. We call it Eagle Vision."

"And I activated it."

"Yes." White clad shoulders shrugged. "Very few of us have the Vision. I am one; several others are spread out through the world."

"Can I turn it off?" Harry asked.

"Yes. Concentrate on the thought of turning off the Vision and then blink." Alex smiled. "It's not hard."

Harry stared down at his lap, his brow furrowing. And then he blinked. When the teen looked up, his irises were the brightest green the older man had ever seen. "Oh!" He started looking around his room with wide, amazed eyes. "I don't need my glasses anymore!"

"No, you wouldn't. Once the Vision is activated, any faults within the eyes are immediately corrected. Pretty cool, huh?"

"Yeah, cool." The teen pursed his lips. "Do you know...?"

"Know what?"

"About my, you know." Harry waved his hand around like a stage magician. "I guess you don't."

"No, the Brotherhood is aware of wand-wielders."

Harry jerked his body in surprise. "You call us wand-wielders?" he asked.

Alex smiled. "What else would we call them? The terms wizards and witches are silly. Anyway, we know a lot of things. But first, we'll have to get rid of your watchers outside." He stood up.

"You mean the Order?" the young wizard asked.

The older man stiffened. "The Order? Is that what Dumbledore's lackeys call themselves?"

"You know of Dumbledore too?"

"Yeah, he's the one who broke the treaty with the Brotherhood regarding the placement of magical children born from our bloodlines. Your mother was never supposed to go to Hogwarts nor use a wand."

"So Dumbledore screwed Mum over too?" Harry frowned and then nodded to himself. "I really don't know what this Brotherhood is, but something tells me you're the better choice compared to Dumbledore or Voldemort. But! But, you better explain everything, especially with my... Eagle Vision turned on!"

"Deal. Wait here." Alex quickly exited the bedroom.

000/000

_**Part Three:**__ Sphere_

Alex reentered his fellow descendant's bedroom, clapping his hands together as if dusting them off. He looked down and smiled at the wizard in the room sitting on the broken bed. "I see you decided to clean yourself up a little while I was busy," he said. And it was true, the younger male had apparently wiped off the dirty and blood that had crusted over his skin and had changed into cleaner, but not better, clothes. At that the white-clad man frowned a little. "It looks like you could do with a new wardrobe though."

"That's not important now," Harry replied with a shrug. "What did you do to my so-called guards?"

"What would you do if I said that I slit their throats?" Alex smirked when the teen turned on his Eagle Vision to check him and just as quickly turned it off.

"I wouldn't do a damned thing," the young wizard replied coolly. "Since they enjoy leaving me here to rot every summer for the past six years, and left me here for ten without even a reprieve to Hogwarts before that. They must think I'm stupid." Here he paused. "I've managed to sit down and think this through, you know. I have been acting rashly; that's what got my godfather killed, my rashness." A bitter smile spread his lips. "And I've only got myself to blame for falling for all of it. Chance meetings with people that would sway my opinions at a young age? Really, an eleven-year-old defeating a troll and overcoming obstacles set up by supposedly competent adult wizards? Killing a basilisk? Facing a feral werewolf? Being illegally entered in a deadly tournament? Prophecies? Smells like a set up to me. Time I used my Slytherin side. So, what is your offer to me? How will I benefit? And how will that coincide with what do you want?"

The older man crossed his arms over his chest and rocked back on his heels. He was smiling, pride shining in his eagle gold eyes. "Well, well, so we get to the heart of the matter." He nodded. "Good questions. I offer this: freedom from this hell-hole, training with the Brotherhood, and a leg up on this Voldemort fellow. Benefits? Well, food, shelter, clothes, weapons, health benefits; the works is what you're getting really. What the Brotherhood wants? We want the Evans family back with us and out from under wand-wielder jurisdiction. Our Bloodline in particular is important to the Brotherhood. Let me be clear, Harry. We are assassins, trained in the art of killing. That is the Brotherhood. Our enemy? The Templars who seek to subjugate all of humanity beneath their thumbs. We hunt them down, we kill them, and we melt back into the shadows. You come with us, you become a killer."

"And if I don't?" Harry demanded.

"I remove the Eagle Vision from your blood and you stay a normal wizard. Any children that you have after will not be sleeper descendants. But if I take the Vision, any memory you have of me or of the Brotherhood will go with it. While I was taking care of your guards, I performed a similar procedure with your Aunt. It was a little harder but still doable. Be glad the Brothers found a way to do these extractions. Once, back in the day, we would have just killed you and washed our hands of the matter."

Harry tapped his fingers against his thighs in thought. "At least you're honest with me," he said grudgingly. "And I do need to kill a dark lord because of some half-baked prophecy and God only knows that Dumbledore would just throw me at him like a sacrificial lamb. It just seems like so much. And what did you do with my Order guards?"

Alex smiled. "Do you really want to know?" he asked.

"No, not really." Harry nodded to himself and stood up. "Lead the way."

"Good, we'll exit from the back yard. You feeling okay though? You are still pretty beat-up."

"I'll be fine."

"Well, alright, your call. But before that, how about raiding your former aunt's kitchen for some lunch?"

000/000

Harry wanted to laugh but he knew there would be an edge of hysteria to his laughter. He couldn't believe how easy it had been for him to be snuck out of his Muggle home, hell out of England all together. So here he was, on an aeroplane, thousands of miles in the air, and staring out of the window. Next to him was the man who had done the sneaking and knocking out of any guards, Alex Miles. Fake IDs and passports were provided by the same man who practically freed him. The wizard reached up to gingerly touch the make-up hiding the bruises on his face.

"Hey, don't touch that," Alex said without even opening his eyes. The assassin yawned softly. "It may be theatre quality spray-on make-up but the last thing we need is the possibility of it smearing."

"Right, sorry. I mean, I can barely feel it."

"Yeah, it's definitely the good shit. Hey, why don't you take a nap? We'll be in Damascus soon enough and then we'll have to move quick."

The young man fiddled with the empty plastic cup sitting on his folding tray that had held Coca-Cola. "Alex, why Damascus?" he asked in a low whisper, eyeing the sleeping and loudly snoring man at the other side of his companion.

"Big international airport and the only one with a direct flight from Heathrow," Alex answered. "We'll go to Hamas after and then head west from there."

"What's west?"

"You'll see."

000/000

"So, there are wizard assassins?" Harry asked incredulously. He was sitting beside the older man in the Al-Madina quarter of the city in one of the river-side gardens. Within view was the Great Mosque of jami An-Nuri. In the background, the young wizard could hear the groaning of the Norias, the waterwheels.

"That's right," Alex replied, taking a sip of his juice. "Why do you think we had a treaty about magical children in the Bloodline? The Brotherhood has a magical branch with special training provided."

"Then why didn't your Brothers do anything about Voldemort back before my parents were killed?" the younger one hissed angrily.

"Because your Dark Lord wasn't the only one running around during the late seventies to eighty-one!" the assassin snapped. "There were three others we had to take care of outside of Britain. Hell, the Brotherhood had to pull out of the UK just to provide man-power against the Templars and those other Dark Lords. Don't be all pissy with me."

Harry deflated. "Oh... I didn't know about those other Dark Lords..." he muttered.

"Of course not." The older man huffed out a breath. "Magical Britain is so isolated from the rest of the world and reality that they don't give a flying rat's ass about anyone else's problems. My older blood-brother was a Magi Brother who was killed by the Dark Lord Jie Shing in China. Then there was the Dark Lord Matlal in Mexico, big trouble there. And of course there was the Dark Lord Datu in the Philippines."

"No European ones?" the wizard wondered.

"Nope, other than your Voldemort, the rest of Europe was still scrambling after Grindelwald." Alex looked at the guilty visage of his fellow descendant. "Hey, don't worry about it. You didn't know, though your history teacher must blow balls if you don't know any of this stuff. Hell, I'm not Magical but I know this stuff."

"All he talks about is Goblin Rebellions," Harry said with a frown.

Alex winced. "Oh shit, don't tell Jonas that. He'll go ape-shit." Then he grinned. "Though that would be funny if he went ape-shit on your teacher."

The brunet wand-wielder shook his head. "Won't do much good. Binns is a ghost," he retorted.

"Wizard say what?"

"What?"

"Ha! Got you! But seriously, your history teacher is a ghost?"

"Yup."

"Good thing I got you out of there."

Harry laughed, leaning against Alex in contentment.

000/000

Dusk fell across the rocky desert. The sky was colored pink and purple. Harry looked up at the crumbling castle of Masyaf with a cynical eye. He turned toward his older companion. "This was where the Brotherhood once lived during the Crusades?" he asked. "Doesn't look like much."

"Hey, it's a Muggle castle that's even older than your Hogwarts! Early Byzantine period, maybe? Eh, it's old so it's not too bad considering. That was where our ancestors lived and trained. Some respect, please," Alex scolded while fighting a grin.

"Yeah, yeah," Harry said. "So what are we doing standing around?"

"One of the Brothers stationed here is going to pick us up to head to the hidden caves. Can you ride a horse?"

"Umm..."

"I'll take that as a no," Alex drawled. He returned his cousin's sheepish grin.

"Oi! I've rode a hippogriff before."

"Dude, totally not the same thing. Last I checked, horses don't fly unless they're the magical kind."

Harry huffed. "Whatever." He ducked under Alex's hand to prevent his hair from getting ruffled. "Watch the hair!"

Alex just laughed.

000/000

**ERM... TBC... maybe...**


	6. Untitled 2

Untitled

Disclaimer: Don't own HP.

This will probably never be continued.

000/000

"Valnir is the city of Heaven; a metropolis that is more gilded than the sun and purer than the clearest diamond." Harry Potter paused in his reading, his melodious tenor voice wavering in the air for a moment. He stared down at the thick tome he held open with one hand with his other propped on his hip. A few more moments passed and then he continued to read aloud in a soft voice. As if he was afraid to break the reverent air around him. "None can enter without earning the right. It is said that there is eternal light, even when the sun sets, from the west around to the east is a glimmer right along the horizon beyond the waters that surround Valnir. But when the sun rises, that golden light caresses every gleaming spire of the city until it reaches the gilded throne room of the creator. And at the head of it sits the throne of the Goddess Cosmos, the Mother of the universe. From there She sees all of Her creation and rules the city of Heaven. Valnir, the golden city, the final home of the worthy..."

"My lord?" a voice called from beyond his study door. The locked doorknob rattled a little. "It's time to go, my lord."

Harry sighed softly and snapped the book shut with a flex of his palm. He set it down upon his desk. With calloused fingertips, he traced the glittering gold letters embossed on the black dragonhide cover. _Analects of a Lost Age: The Fallen _declared the letters in elegant, swirling script and below it was a large lightning bolt embossed in incandescent blue. The immortal wizard turned away from the book and left, never letting the other person even glimpse into the room.

000/000

_Cosmos is the Mother of the universe, _

_gold of hair and blue of eye with skin as pale as cream. _

_She is Perfection, filled with Grace. _

_But do not mistake Her beauty for weakness, _

_for She is also the guardian who holds back Chaos, _

_who prevents the Shadows from spilling out onto Her creation. _

_Oh merciful Goddess, shine thy benevolent light upon us..._

-Analects of a Lost Age: The Fallen, Book of Origine, 1:7

000/000

"Cosmos... Can you hear me, I wonder? Do you even exist?" Harry stood beneath the starry sky in the midst of the land that surrounded the Peverell Estate. "Can I make a wish to you? Would you listen? Would you grant it?" There was no answer, just the nonsensical whispering of the wind as it blew across the high grasses of the plain that where the manor sat in solemn silence.

And then a star shot across the sky.

"I wish..."

000/000

_She will choose a warrior. _

_He will bear Her mark upon his brow. _

_Eternally will he wander, _

_defending Her creation and the worlds therein. _

_Fierce, proud, and strong but his heart will yearn for finality. _

_There will be none to be had for She chose him as champion._

_Despair not, warrior. The Goddess is with you always._

-Analects of a Lost Age: The Fallen, Book of Profet, 5:11

000/000

There once was a boy born to loving parents. But Death stole them with green lightning. From there the boy knew only suffering and servitude. At times the boy knew happiness or at least contentedness. However, he was forced into a role. He was the blade wielded by the Self-Righteous, the lamb directed to slaughter. But what his wielder did not know was that the boy had a destiny beyond being a sword held by the tarnished White Knight. And so the boy escaped both Death and wielder, taking with him eternity.

His name was Harry Potter and this is his story as Warrior, as Champion... As Chosen.

000/000


End file.
